Sic Contra Confessional

Well, since Blogger and gmail seems to finally be working I thought I'd blog and speak unto the masses...

I joined Independence First a few weeks ago and when I got access to their forum and went to the meetings, I suddenly started thinking that I had made a huge mistake.

The meeting that started me thinking was at the location of the photograph you will see to your left.

After the may elections, I was thinking about cutting back the politics in favour of doing more writing and artsy stuff. Going to that honey coloured building in Perth on a Saturday IF meeting on that rather nice Saturday I didn't realise how right I was.

I didn't mind the fact I found myself in votes where mine was crucial. Didn't like it one bit, mind you. I voted FOR Eric Canning of the Communist Party of Scotland to be Honorary Convener of IF and AGAINST Party Political speeches at the March IF Rally in Edinburgh. Showing Scotland what its brothers and sisters think is crucial, but is it the best way to run a rally? I guess we'll all have to wait and see.

The meeting was traumatic. It seeme more personal and unprofessional than I'm used to. I didn't expect that. It was one of those familiar feelings where you realise that you've made a huge mistake and that what should be a cruel and beautiful thing is, in fact, more cruel than beautiful and more intense and destructive than you gave it credit for.

I guess it wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for HER. She who I can't quite forget. She, who I've mentioned a long time ago in a passage I've long since deleted. She, who made me want to change my own self destructive ways...

Fuck it. So be it.

The "Saltires... Everywhere" Video is for HER. The Saltires don't represent a country, they represent a person. I guess I'm just that effin' soppy sometimes. I don't care that no-one entirely understands. It doesn't matter. It wasn't the point.

And that's it... isn't it? It's the point where the pebbles don't get to vote on the avalanche that has already started. It's the point where gravity waits until it realises the coyote is hanging in mid-air before springing its inevitable trap.